


The Tribulations Of Marriage

by Mardiaz173



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Cannibalism (Implied), Crack Treated Seriously, Dark Will Graham, Domestic Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Established Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Fluff, Hannibal Lecter Being an Asshole, Hannibal Lecter Is A Drama Queen, Hannibal Really Is Having A Great Time, Humor, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I dont know you tell me, Jealous Will Graham, M/M, Murder Husbands, Murder Romance, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Romance, Venezia | Venice, Will Graham is So Done, Will Is In The Dog House, is this graphic violence?, no beta we die like men, self indulgent crack, someone explain to me chiyoh's age pls i dont understand, there isn't even a plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-03 23:50:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17887493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mardiaz173/pseuds/Mardiaz173
Summary: “I think it is unbecoming for a senior citizen like myself to share a bed with you,” Hannibal announced. Will blinked at him. “I would offer to leave the bed myself, as a gentleman, but the pain in my lower back has become debilitating and I believe that your youthful back will do much better on the sofa.”“You’re making me sleep on the couch?”





	The Tribulations Of Marriage

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even remember how this started. I think I was reading a fanfic and an author or someone called Hannibal an elder and all I could think is Hannibal would be so offended. Tada. I have all these serious ideas in my head, but then these things take up all the space because Hannibal Lecter is that bitch.

“Where are we going?” Will asked, testing the stitches in his cheek. Hannibal gave him a disapproving look and Will stopped. “Somewhere in South America would work well. Argentina?”

“Another time, perhaps,” Hannibal disagreed. “For now, I was thinking Italy.”

“Again?”

“It’s the first place they would suspect,” Hannibal beamed. “Therefore, it’s the last they would go to.”

Will rolled his eyes, but his heart ached with fondness. “Your love for Florence is boundless.”

Hannibal smiled nostalgically at the deck of their boat. “Another day I will show you Florence. However, I think Venice this time.” 

“I haven’t seen Venice,” Will agreed.

“Will,” Hannibal said fondly, “we have all the time in the world now.”

There was a moment before Will rolled his eyes and gestured towards their cabin below. “Go lay down,” he huffed amusedly. “You’re still recovering and it will takes us weeks to get to 一 Morocco perhaps?” Hannibal didn’t reply so Will assumed that they’d chosen. “I’ll get us there.”

“I know you will,” Hannibal agreed. “This wouldn’t be the first time you sailed across the Atlantic, would it? And now you have me for company.”

Will rolled his eyes again, but Hannibal kissed him on his healing cheek before he retreated to their cabin and Will felt his lips curl into a smile. 

***

Of course, the sailboat that Chiyoh had left them with (after she supplied them with clothes, medical supplies, various groceries with a good selection of expensive wines and lacking much meat, an arrangement of books, and a glare for Will) possessed cozy beds and a galley kitchen more extravagant than Will had seen on other sailboats. Will spent most of his time sailing or teaching Hannibal to sail, who picked it up quickly and gracefully. The times where they didn’t speak while Will sailed, Hannibal lounged with a glass of wine and a book. 

Therefore, the two arrived in Morocco rested, recovered, and deeply tanned. 

***

They managed their way through Algeria and Tunisia and took a cruise across the Mediterranean and arrived in Messina. Then, they took a train all the way up to Venice. 

***

By the time the two of them settled in Venice, Will and Hannibal had settled domestically into their relationship as well. Will figured that after killing the Dragon and surviving a forty foot plunge into the Atlantic, what reason could he possibly have to object to a nice honeymoon in Venice? 

Their apartment was ostentatious; there was one bedroom draped in dark maroons and purples, their kitchen held an old gothic feel to it, and the living room possessed several intimidating couches and rugs. Will had let Hannibal decorate and decide. Giving him something to do that he liked after those years confined seemed harmless, especially because Will could appreciate the beauty in Hannibal’s decoration and he didn’t particularly care for home renovation.

Sat in their living room, Hannibal was posed in front of the window, painting the canal filled with street-lights outside, and Will stumbled over a book in Italian. “How did you learn Italian?” Will asked, deciding to discard his book. 

“My mother,” Hannibal replied, dabbing his brush in a vibrant blue. “Italian was her native tongue and she spoke it to me.” 

“Ah,” Will noted. “I assume you learned Japanese similarly.”

“Much later,” Hannibal nodded. “But yes, I spoke it with my aunt and Chiyoh.”

“Yes, Chiyoh. It always amazes me how young she looks.”

“Good genetics,” Hannibal said gleefully, tilting his head at his painting.

“Older than I,” Will muttered under his breath. “A couple of years, given that you’re practically an elder, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she said she was a decade younger than me.”

Hannibal paused at his painting and turned to look at Will. “An elder?” 

Will sighed. “Not an elder 一 you know what I mean.”

“Not an elder then,” Hannibal said slowly. “Just old-looking.”

“You’re missing the point,” Will huffed.

“The point? So you agree that I look old.” 

“You’re twisting my words as you so often do 一 this time to no benefit to either of us.”

“I apologize” 一 Will let out a relieved breath at the admission 一 “it’s hard for a man of my age to remain focused on semantics.”

“Oh my god,” Will huffed. “You and your ego.”

“At my age, all a man has is his ego, Will.” Hannibal cleaned the paint off his brush and then left it and his palette near his easel. He took the cup of painted-filled water and stood up. “I’m to going to take a shower and then go to bed.”

“It’s 8:30, Hannibal,” Will pointed out.

“Far to late for me to be up,” Hannibal mocked. “Or so I am told by the other mature residents.”

As Hannibal walked away, Will reached out to grab him around the waist, but Hannibal evaded him easy enough. “ _Hannibal_.” 

“I apologize again, Will,” Hannibal said without turning around to look at him. “My hearing is going. I fear I don’t know what you’re saying. Goodnight.”

Will huffed back into his chair and rolled his eyes. That night, when he went to bed at a much more reasonable time than Hannibal, he curled around Hannibal’s back and rubbed a hand down Hannibal’s chest. Hannibal determinedly removed it. “I would,” he said with easy falseness in his tone, “but my back appears to have started bothering me.” He shifted away from Will.

Will banged his head back against his pillow. “Oh my god.”

***

Hannibal spent the next day talking minimally to Will. He made them breakfast in the morning, but he took it outside on their balcony, watching the city. Will had called after him, but Hannibal had only tapped at his ear as if to say _can’t hear you_ and continued his way.

Rude, Will had dismissed, and childish.

After a nearly silent day, including a silent lunch and a moderately uncomfortable dinner, Will followed Hannibal to his 9:30 bedtime, hoping to gain brownie points. “You know,” he started, pulling on some pajama pants, “I wasn’t saying that you were old. Or that you look old. Just that there’s an age difference between us.”

“Ten years,” Hannibal said.

“Yes, and, you know, to some that’s a significant difference,” Will replied.

"Significant,” Hannibal repeated as he sat on the bed. Will went to climb in the other side, but Hannibal stopped him. “I think it is unbecoming for a senior citizen like myself to share a bed with you,” he announced. Will blinked at him. “I would offer to leave the bed myself, as a gentleman, but the pain in my lower back has become debilitating and I believe that your youthful back will do much better on the sofa.”

“You’re making me sleep on the couch?”

“Not making,” Hannibal replied mildly, getting into the bed himself. “Merely asking.”

“This is ridiculous,” Will announced, but he went to their closet and gathered a blanket and pillow under his arm. If Hannibal wanted to do ridiculous, Will would match him. “I’ll get you an appointment with a chiropractor,” he bit out.

Hannibal didn’t miss a beat. “Very sweet of you, my dear,” he returned as Will left the bedroom.

Will collapsed on the couch in annoyance and stuffed his pillow behind his neck, shooting one dark look to the hallway with their bedroom.

***

Will slept on the couch for two more nights. Hannibal started talking to him again, but his new thing seemed to be to making up increasing injuries to get out of tasks, leaving Will to do them or just leaving them undone. 

“You jumped on a murderer and ripped his throat out with your teeth,” Will snarled finally after Hannibal mentioned that he thought the living room would look better arranged in a different manner, but his knee prevented him from fixing it himself. “Then you fell off a cliff into the ocean.”

“Was pulled off a cliff,” Hannibal corrected. “And I believe that aggravated my arthritis.” He tilted his head. “I also believe the ottoman would look better by the doors to the balcony.”

“You don’t _have_ arthritis,” Will hissed as he pushed the ottoman into place. He had to take a breath to keep from cutting open Hannibal’s knee to prove it.

“I’m a doctor, dear. I would know whether or not I have arthritis.”

Will choose not to mention that not only had Hannibal not practiced surgery in years, but both of his MDs had been revoked when his more controversial hobbies had been outed. “You _know_ you don’t have arthritis.”

“Then why does my knee hurt?” Hannibal asked. He tilted his head at Will’s placement of furniture. “Actually, I am certain that the ottoman looked better where it had previously been, Will. I apologize.”

“I’m sure you feel so guilty,” Will growled as he returned the ottoman to place.

“A staggering amount of guilt, yes,” Hannibal said. He smiled at Will when he finished. “I think it’s time for lunch, don’t you?” 

Will nodded as he collapsed onto his sofa where his blanket and pillow were placed nicely to appease Hannibal’s perfectionism and aesthetics. 

"Do be careful,” Hannibal called as he left to the kitchen. “If the sofa breaks, my carpal tunnel syndrome would make me unable to fix it.”

Will mocked him under his breath.

***

“Dr. Lewandowski,” an excited voice called. Both Will and Hannibal turned to see Mr. Baresi, bright and cheery and walking towards them. He grinned at Hannibal before greeting Will. “Mr. King,” he said.

Mr. Baresi,” Hannibal greeted. Will noted bitterly that Hannibal was a couple inches further away from Will than usual. He had thought a private stroll through the city would finally get rid of Hannibal’s mood, but it seemed even when alined with the devil, Will never had any luck. “What a surprise.”

“A tremendous surprise,” Will muttered dryly. His neck was starting to strain from sleeping on their sofa and he wasn’t in the mood to have Hannibal be fawned and groped over by an amateur artist.

“Indeed it is,” Baresi agreed, but he was as excited as Will to see the other. On their cruise across the Mediterranean, Hannibal had to pacify Will with future promises to kill Baresi to keep Will from disemboweling the man in public after Baresi shamelessly had fallen onto a very specific spot on Hannibal’s lap. It was a testament to how angry Will had been that _Hannibal_ had to excuse the man’s vulgarity. “I promise I wasn’t following you guys.”

Hannibal laughed indulgently, but Will saw the boredom in his eyes. It kept him from pressing his thumbs into Baresi’s until they bled. “Happy to hear that,” Hannibal said. His eyes then twinkled in amusement. “My dear Francisco,” he prompted and if Baresi had a tail, it would be wagging, “Ulysses and I were having a discussion. Tell me, what age would you consider someone elderly? Older than I look, hopefully.”

“Way older,” Baresi insisted. “You can’t be older than forty-five.”

Will thumbed the blade in the pocket of his pants. Hannibal had tuned most of his brain out of Baresi’s chatter, but Will heard it all through water. Baresi was flattering and enchanted and Will stabbed him in his working throat. Baresi’s larynx moved up and down rapidly as blood trickled out the wound with the knife. His mouth opened and shut, blood and spit spilled over his lips, covering his chin and a bloody bubble swelled and popped over his mouth, wetting his cheekbones and nose, and Will removed the knife from his throat. Blood rushed out, soaking his throat and tan shirt, as Baresi choked and spluttered and fell to his knees, grasping frantically at his throat until he fell to the side, messy and lifeless with blood flowing from his neck, down the dock, and into the canal. Hannibal looked enraptured.

“It was wonderful to see you,” Hannibal dismissed, pulling Will from his fantasy and smiling at the real, living Baresi. “Now, Ulysses and I must be going, but we would love to have you for dinner sometime.”

“Of course,” Baresi nodded and the two of them left him. 

“Mr. Baresi assured me I do not look elderly,” Hannibal said when the man was further away. Will pondered killing Hannibal after Baresi and found, probably, most of himself objected to it. Better than killing Hannibal, Will decided, was to recapture Hannibal’s effusive affection and flaunt it in Baresi’s face as he died.

***

Get dressed,” Will ordered, though Hannibal never stayed in unrefined clothes even in his own home. In fact, the outfit Will was wearing right now was just Hannibal’s outfit with a blazer to match his trousers.

Hannibal looked intrigued and he obliged, disappearing into their room. Will grabbed a glass of scotch from the kitchen, patting their sofa along the way. If all went well, he wouldn't spend another night on it. He heard Hannibal in the bathroom, probably fixing his already perfect hair, and Will downed the rest of the scotch. He placed the glass in the sink, even if Hannibal preferred for them to be immediately cleaned.

When Hannibal emerged from the bathroom, he was dressed in a suit. Beige and white with a brown and maroon swirling tie and tailored to a T. Of course, Hannibal then had to ruin the moment. “Darling, you do know it is getting to be too late for me,” he snipped.

“Too bad,” Will rolled his eyes. He offered his arm and Hannibal took it, surprised and delighted and curious. Will felt triumphant. “I have a surprise,” he explained.

Hannibal’s delight grew, but he didn’t say anything. Will hadn’t expected him to ask. He led them out their apartment building and tried to steer them towards their destination without Hannibal realizing his plan. He knew there was a good chance he already had, but until Hannibal mentioned it, he was going to keep acting.

The gondolier was waiting for them. A tall, thin and quiet man that Will had conversed with in his improving Italian before, when they had decided their route and the price. Hannibal saw him and the gondola and looked at Will with his usual adoration.

Plan To Romance Hannibal Into Knocking It The Fuck Off Status: succeeding.

Will gestured to the gondola and Hannibal smiled at him as he climbed in, far more gracefully than anyone had the right to be when climbing into a boat. Will followed him and the gondolier pushed them off the edge and into the canal, illuminated by small streetlights. Romantic and Italian enough that Hannibal had to be swayed. “Very sweet, beloved,” Hannibal smiled as they settled into their seat, pressed close together.

Will grabbed Hannibal’s hand and laced their fingers. “Does that mean I can sleep in my bed again?” he asked.

Hannibal’s amusement shone in his eyes. “I have been lonely at night.”

“Good. I hope your curiosity has been satisfied. I know you didn’t expected me to oblige.”

“It was interesting to see the effects it had on your mood,” Hannibal said. He dropped his voice so it was private between the two of them. “I feared for poor Mr. Baresi’s life yesterday evening.”

“You should still fear for Mr. Baresi’s life,” Will growled. His hand tightened on Hannibal’s.

“What did you see yesterday when you left us?”

“I stabbed him in the throat and he choked on his own blood. When I pulled out the knife, his blood filled the Great Canal.”

There was the enraptured look Will prophesied. Hannibal kissed him on his temple, then his cheek, then his jawline. “When we leave,” he promised.

They sat in silence, watching the beauty of Venice at night with the full moon glowing in the sky and listening to the water as they were pulled through the streets. It was a moment before Will spoke again. “That means you’ll stop with your old people jokes, too?” he asked.

“I found them rather amusing.”

“You find everything amusing,” Will retorted dryly. “If your feelings had truly been hurt, I’m sure one of us would be bleeding. Find something else for fun. I find them annoying.”

Hannibal sighed dramatically. “If I must.”

**Author's Note:**

> No, it doesn't make any sense. Yes, this is probably out of character. I apologize for my contribution to society.
> 
> (Yes, I also made up a bum-ass reason for them to go to Venice. Sue me.)
> 
> ((Also, I know nothing about anything can you have two MDs????))


End file.
